Grey's Anatomy Season 5 and a Half Prank Finales
by InTheBetween
Summary: aka The Never-Melting Icicle Chronicles, each written by a different InTheBetween author
1. Puff, the Magic Dragon

**Song Title: Puff, the Magic Dragon**

**Episode Title: The One with the End of the World…**

**Author: shli**

_Once upon a time, there was a very sexy redheaded trauma surgeon and his equally attractive raven-haired cardio surgeon ladylove. It was a disgustingly hot day – the kind of day where you wished you could return to the days of childhood, tear off all your clothes, and run through sprinklers. But to them, it was any other day – another day of patients in need of cutting, colleagues in need of gossiping, and on-call rooms in need of occupying…among other things. And like any other day for this couple, it began with two extremely satisfied smiles…_

"Mmm…you certainly are making up for all that time we were celibate," Cristina said, sprawled atop the covers.

"Well, we have to catch up with the other couples. Even George has had more sex than we have. Izzie has had more _ghost_ sex than we've had of real sex. That's just plain wrong." Owen placed an arm behind his head, showing off the drool-worthy muscles of his arm (and the ginger armpit hair that a few fanatics were gaga over).

Without warning, a hypnotic trance came over him. "I want you naked… in my bed," Owen voiced in a deep, Scottish brogue.

Cristina turned to him. "I _am_ naked in your bed. What's wrong with you? Why are you speaking in a Scottish accent? Hmm… I think I like it." Cristina licked her lips. "No, I love it. Say something else. It's such a turn on."

Owen shook his head, clearing the fog that had settled there. "Sorry, what? What are you talking about?"

"You just told me that you wanted me naked in your bed – in a Scottish accent. Seriously, I'm at like an 8 in the moist panty scale devised by a certain group of fangirls. Come a little closer, and we can make that a 10."

Shrugging off that momentary lapse of sanity, Owen chose to focus on the more important task: making love to Cristina in a manner that would garner millions of replays on YouTube and DVRs or TiVos and pages of careful analysis on the ABC message board's Yang-Hunt Thread.

***

Characteristic lack of a transition scene.

***

"Why is it so hot?" Cristina complained loudly as they finally walked into the hospital for their shift, pulling at the fabric so that it no longer stuck to her skin.

Even Owen, who was used to wearing full army gear during the hottest summers in the Iraqi desert, felt unequipped to handle the heat – though he was a lot less vocal about the discomfort.

Owen's eyes couldn't help but stray towards Cristina's chest – a move that definitely did not help him cool off. _Yep, I need a cold, ice cold, shower_, Owen thought to himself. Then another voice joined in, _And you need to take off your shirt._

_Whoa, who is this?_

_ Uh, we are the voice in your head that Ausiello spoke about._

_ I don't really pay attention to that guy. He likes the blonde psycho that the 5.5 authors rightly killed off._

_ We don't like him either. But anyways, we're getting off topic. Take off your shirt!_

_ Well, if I take a shower, I'm going to have to take off my shirt._

_ Right… How's your Armani suit?_

Cristina's misery-ridden groan jolted Owen out of his conversation with the unknown voice. "Ugh, I need to take a bath."

Apparently, Cristina had a similar voice in her head. "Good idea. I know just the place."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry, you'll like it."

***

"Wow, I _really_ do not know this hospital. When did we get an Ancient Rome-themed bedroom? Wait… You didn't get a headache and suddenly make us time travel, did you?"

"No, I told you. My _Journeyman_ days are long behind me."

"Okay, good." Cristina looked around, admiring the decor.

"It's great, right? Right?"

Cristina giggled. "Yeah."

"It's out of time, out of place. Anything can happen… in a Roman bedroom."

"Like what?"

"Like… a provocative wash scene." Owen pulled off his clothes in record time as Cristina brought over a basin of water and a washcloth.

Just as Owen was about to take the washcloth from her hand and dip it into the water, Cristina interrupted, "Let me."

Looking down at Cristina's ebony curls and bluish-gray shift dress, Owen couldn't help but have a sense of déjà vu. Cristina ran the washcloth up his leg, slowly making her way up to his right buttock (which, for some odd reason, was full of mosquito bites). Unable to resist any longer, Owen drew Cristina to her feet and kissed her, hands gently cupping her neck. Cristina tilted her head to one side, giving his lips an all-access pass to the side of her neck. Owen took the hint.

Things segued into a love scene that could only take place on a network like HBO or in the realms of fanfiction, filled with intertwined limbs, heavy panting, and thrusting that would make any fangirl swoon. However, in this case, a huge black rectangle of censorship covered up all the good stuff, and a line of text that said "holding hands" – courtesy of ABC, leaving the bottom half of their bodies up to the imagination of said fangirls.

***

Meanwhile, another, lesser, Mc was having a similar type of fun himself in an on-call room, his second home.

"Little Grey," he groaned out.

"Seriously? That's what you're going to call me while we're doing it? Ugh, you really are a pedophile," Lexie replied, though she didn't stop her demonstration of number 16 from a certain "how to spice up your sex life" magazine article at an alarmingly rapid pace.

"Shut up, I'm trying to pretend you're someone else." A someone else who had left and gone to Los Angeles to be part of a private practice that had some ridiculous drama of its own – though, none of it rivaling the absurdity of ghost sex.

Without warning, something snapped.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mark screamed. "You broke it! Again!"

"Oops," Lexie said, climbing off of him.

"Don't just stand there like a mindless idiot. Go get Hunt!"

"Hold on. I'm taking a mental image of this for my photographic memory vault. Okay… got it."

***

Back in the Ancient Roman bedroom, Owen's pager went off.

"Argh, damn pager. It's always interrupting us just when things are about to get good," Cristina lamented just as they were about to go for round two. They were serious about making up for lost opportunities in the sexy time department.

"Hmm…911 page from Callie. I wonder… No, he wouldn't be _that _stupid to do it again, would he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, I just need to _straighten_ something out." Owen pecked Cristina on the cheek then donned his scrubs, opting for going commando. Before he left, he held Cristina's gaze for a moment – the sex just emanating from his eyes – and said, "You should take off your clothes more often. It shows off the back of your neck. I like the back of your neck." With one last smoldering look, Owen left.

***

"Yeah, that's a penile fracture," Owen announced with Callie hovering behind him.

"Oh, I'm going to kill myself."

"We should operate, then you can kill yourself."

"Oh god," Mark groaned in pain.

"Can you do it?" Callie asked.

"Well, this one might be a little trickier. Lexie did slightly more damage this time."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, not really wanting to know the answer. And he didn't get a chance to. He fainted.

_What a wuss, _Owen thought. _Am I the only real man in this hospital?_

_ Yes, you are._

Callie repeated the question.

"Well, when I said we needed to operate, I meant that we'd have to give him a sex change operation. His man parts are going to have to be turned into woman parts."

"Seriously?" Callie cocked an eyebrow in interest. "That would make him a lesbian…right?"

"I guess it would."

"Hmm… This could be a good thing. But then, he wouldn't be my backup penis anymore. Technically, he'd be my backup vagina. And what if I'm not a lesbian? What if I am no longer the sexually confused character who has no other storyline other than being broke and unlucky in love? Would Mark and I work out, though? He's not blonde, so that'd be a new change of pace, me getting with a non-blonde lesbian… I wonder if that's even allowed… "

"Callie."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

***

_Take off your shirt_. Owen stopped in his tracks. There was that voice again.

_Take off your shirt!_

_ I did! I even took off my pants, too._

_ No, right now. Take off your shirt right now. Just walk around the hospital half-naked._

Owen shrugged then pulled his dark blue scrub top over his head.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Alex asked, seeing his former bromance partner.

"Hey there now, Karev. I'm taking off my shirt."

"Why?"

"Because the voice inside my head told me to."

Alex paused. "Do you _see _things, too?"

"No," Owen scoffed. "If I did, I would certainly go see a doctor rather than go to town on myself and think I'm having sex with a dead lover."

"So, you don't see Izzie or Denny?"

"No…" Owen replied slowly, wondering what was wrong with Alex. "Do you?"

Alex looked towards the empty space on Owen's left. "You don't see Izzie and Denny standing right next to you with their four ghost kids behind them?"

"No, I don't."

"Crap." Alex turned around so that his back was facing Owen and lifted his top. "Do I have a mole on my back?"

Owen stepped closer to examine Alex's skin. "That's odd… You've got a cluster of moles in the shape of… Does that say 007?"

"AHHHHHHH!" Alex screamed, though in a less girly way than Mark had. "George is haunting me! He's not even dead in Season 5.5!" Eyes darting in every direction in paranoia, Alex pulled down his shirt and ran off like a raving lunatic, having reached his quota of crazy people.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Owen continued merrily on his way – shirtless.

***

"Boo," Owen whispered into Cristina's ear, sneaking up on her.

Cristina jumped. "Holy Canadian bacon! How did you know I was here?"

"I just knew…"

"Okay, that's kinda stalkery… but very romantic."

Owen kissed the back of her neck, and all was forgiven. "What's that in your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Cristina asked, raising the icicle in her hand. "This is…"

"Is that the never-melting icicle that I pulled out of your chest, which symbolized the warming of your heart and your renewed ability to love?" Owen made to take it from her hand for a closer examination.

The second his skin touched the icicle, it shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

"You broke it!" Cristina whined.

"I don't know what happened. I don't know what happened! I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Cristina replied, pulling him into her arms. "You were asleep. It's okay, it's okay… Wait, that's not right… Hey! Why aren't you wearing a shirt!?!" Cristina took a step back, peering at his rock hard chest.

"You just realized that?"

"Well, I always imagine you without your clothes on, so I didn't notice. But seriously, why?"

"A voice inside my head told me to take it off."

"Uh oh, do we need to send you back to Wyatt?"

"Psh, no. That woman imposed a no-sex rule, I ain't never going back."

"Oh yeah… That jealous cougar! She's a terrible shrink."

Before Owen could voice his accordance, something sparkly caught his attention. "Look, the pieces of the never-melting icicle are glowing!"

Cristina looked at the ground. They _were _glowing. Suddenly, the tiny shards of ice floated in the air in a whirl of glittery fairy dust. When the imaginary wind settled, a wand with a sizeable cookie at the tip lay where the icicle once was.

"Oooh, pretty," Cristina said, picking it up, giving her a sense of déjà vu and a flash memory of her being on Sesame Street as a cookie fairy.

_Wave the wand in the air and click your heels three times_, a voice said in Cristina's mind.

"Whoa, I hear a voice, too!"

"Is it telling you to take off your shirt as well?"

"No, it's telling to wave the wand and click my heels."

"Do it. I want to see what happens."

"Okay." Cristina waved the wand, cookie crumbs falling everywhere, and tapped the heels of her tennis shoes together in three rapid successions.

Nothing happened.

"I don't think you did it right," Owen said after a while.

Just as Cristina was about to tell Owen that she was _always_ right, a quake rippled through the hospital as the entire roof was pulled off by an alien spaceship. Owen pulled Cristina to the ground, covering her body with his, as per his savior complex.

A fluorescent ramp lowered from the spacecraft, ending where the couple was crouching. Blinded by the light, Owen was unable to make out the shape of the alien beings until they stood right before them.

_Hello, Owen Hunt_, a familiar voice said.

"Are you the ones who were putting thoughts into my head?"

_Yes._

Cristina, whose face had been pressed into Owen's lickable chest, turned around to see what was going on.

"Is it just me, or do these things look like coconuts to you?"

"Actually, they look more like squeeing fangirls to me. Squeeing fangirls who dubbed themselves 'coconuts,' are currently taking over the world, and belong in an insane asylum."

Sweeping aside that long-winded response, Cristina stood up, brushing off the debris, and took on a confrontational stance. "What do you want?"

_We are here to take you and Owen away on our spaceship, to save you from the dragons._

"Dragons? What dragons?"

_The ones that are currently burning up your planet._

Cristina scoffed. "You seriously want me to believe that we're being overrun by dragons."

_Your friend was having ghost sex._

"Huh… That's a fair point. Okay. Where are we going?"

_ To a new planet, where you and Owen will have more than two and a half minutes of airtime per episode._

"Two and a half minutes of airtime?"

_It's a figure of speech. Do you accept?_

"Do you have oxygen on your planet? Because I can't _breathe_….without you, I mean, air."

_Well, duh. We know what we're doing. We're not Shonda._

Cristina turned to Owen, who apparently had a similar conversation with the telepathic coconuts.

"You want to go?" he asked.

"They're alien coconuts," Cristina replied, as if it made them less trustworthy.

"So?"

Unable to argue with that line of reasoning, Cristina took Owen's hand and refocused her attention on the alien creatures. "Okay, we accept."

_Seriously?_

"Seriously."

_Seriously, seriously? All you have to do is say yes._

Cristina rolled her eyes with frustration. "Yes! Take us to your planet!"

_ Excellent._

***

"Is that a unicorn?" Owen asked, rubbing his eyes before looking again. No, his vision had not gone awry. He was indeed staring at a living and breathing unicorn.

Cristina was distracted with her own discovery. "Why are there so many rainbows? What are these aliens? Leprechauns?"

Owen made a face. Memories from his past life as a leprechaun were highly unwelcome.

A furry little animal purred, rubbing its head against her leg. Cristina kneeled down to pet it. "Why, hello there, kitty."

The kitten meowed in response.

"Hey, they didn't say anything about kittens. I'm allergic." Owen froze, waiting for the inevitable sneezing and tearing to start. It didn't.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. I think these are hypo-allergenic kittens."

"Oh. Okay… So, what do you want to do first?"

Cristina got up and looked around at the vast land around them. "Well… We still haven't beaten Izzie's ghost sex record, yet," she said coyly.

A huge grin came across Owen's face. "Cristina, I love the way you think."

_ Elsewhere, in the comforts of their own homes, the coconuts eased into their cushy seats and turned on their television. The familiar masculine voice of the ABC promo announcer blared through the speakers, dramatically announcing the arrival of a new show. "On September 24th, the special two-hour series premiere of _Just Cristina and Owen's Anatomy _begins…" The screen flashes with provocative scenes of Cristina and Owen christening their first day on the new planet. "Only on HBO."_


	2. Monster Mash

**The One With the Zombie...**

**Author: ohcyfan**

_Voiceovers. They are a monumental pain in the ass, and the bane of any self-respecting fanfic writer. They require a certain comfort level with platitudes, and an ability to wax poetic over the kind of bullshit that most people just live with and shut up about. Personally, I hate 'em. I hated writing them for 5.5, I hate writing this one, and you are NOT getting one at the end of this episode. So there._

It was 5:58pm when David Young showed up in the Pit, seemingly intact and bearing no signs of the kind of injury one would associate with a visit to an emergency room. Owen was just about to go off shift, preparing for an intimate evening with Cristina, when he spotted David wandering around the waiting room looking confused. He scanned around for an intern or a nurse, but everyone was busy so he approached the man himself.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, um... oh! Dr. Hunt! How nice to see you again!"

"Have we met?" Owen studied the handsome face in front of him. It didn't ring a bell.

"Yes, of course! Well, I didn't look like this at the time. I'm David Young - your face transplant?"

"Mr. Young! How are you?" Owen was genuinely surprised to see David again. Young's follow-ups had all been with Sloan, and he had not laid eyes on him since the operation. Young was looking fantastic. The transplant had clearly been a huge success.

"I'm okay, Dr. Hunt, but something strange is going on. I... I didn't know where to turn, so I thought I'd come here."

"Come on in, Mr. Young. We'll see if I can help you." Owen led him to an empty exam room and closed the door. David boosted himself up on the table and looked around, seemingly not knowing where to begin.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Owen prodded gently.

"Okay, but I'm afraid you'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me."

"All right, then. Everything was going fine. I finally had a life. I mean, I was making friends - real friends - not just a crazy bunch of fangirls off some online message board. But then I started to have these... dreams... or visions... of the man whose face I took." Owen could see that David was getting increasingly agitated as he spoke, and he worked to keep his expression neutral despite the feeling that this was going nowhere fast. "Now, everywhere I look, I keep seeing this man with his skin ripped off - following me! He... he keeps showing up and demanding his face back!"

Owen's neutral demeanor was beginning to crack. This guy had clearly gone off the deep end. Didn't they do a psych screening on these patients before approving them for such radical surgery? Here was a waste of a perfectly good face on a guy who was totally out to lunch. "Uh, let me go get one of my colleagues, okay? I think...."

"You don't believe me, do you?" David challenged him. "You think I'm nuts. I was starting to think so too, until he came after me in my own house. He was holding this thing in his hand, like he was going to stab me. And I have proof! He left it behind... Here! Take a look..." David opened his coat and, out of an interior pocket, extracted a gigantic dirty icicle. Owen's eyes widened. Was that... No, it couldn't be... But it sure did look like the same icicle he'd pulled out of Cristina Yang all those months ago. And it still hadn't melted.

Owen felt a chill run down the back of his neck.

Just then, Cristina breezed into the exam room and jumped into Owen's arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and planted a big one on him, oblivious to the fact that a patient was sitting right there on the table.

"Um, Cristina..." Owen managed to say in between kisses, his hands roaming along the sides of her face and into her hair, "We have company."

Cristina looked to the side and saw that they were, indeed, not alone. She dropped to the ground and smoothed out her lab coat. "Sorry. Just getting a jump start on tonight, so to speak. Hey, aren't you that Blowhole guy?"

"Cristina!" Owen barked in shock, "We don't address our patients as 'guys'!"

"Yeah!" said David, "That's _Mister_ Blowhole to you."

"Oh, sorry. But that's you, right? Hey, how's the face? You look pretty good. Of course, if I'd been allowed to scrub in on this surgery..."

"That's enough, Cristina." Owen put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to shut her up. "Would you mind calling in Dr. Wyatt? You know, the _specialist_?"

"Oh, you mean the shrink? Sure, I'll have her paged. Be right back." She winked at David and strolled out of the room.

"So you still don't believe me, even though I've brought evidence?"

"Look, that's not for me to judge, Mr. Blow... Mr. Young. You came to me for help, and I'm trying to help you. Besides, I have a hot date with my girlfriend, and my shift ended ten minutes ago."

"Oh, I see all right. I see _everything_." David began to clutch at his shirt collar, and his breath grew ragged. His face took on an agonized expression and his eyes darted around the room. Owen could see that he was having a panic attack. "I'm outta here," said David, leaping off the table and heading for the door. Owen stopped him, grabbing him from behind in a bear hug and squeezing tightly. David struggled, but to no avail, and Owen tried to coax him through the attack by speaking softly into his ear. "I'm applying deep pressure here... to relax your sympathetic nervous system. It will decrease your metabolic rate. You'll feel more panicked at first. You'll try to resist it, but eventually you will feel your pulse rate slow. It's okay. Your breath will come easier." David began to calm down. "It's okay," said Owen, "It's okay... and besides... I like the back of your neck."

"Get off me, you freak!" David yelled, stomping on Owen's foot and then bolting out the door. Owen followed him as he headed for the ambulance bay, trying to head him off. The last time a patient had escaped from his ER, they had jumped out a window and landed on someone's car. The auto insurance company had had a field day with the hospital, and Owen had had to explain the negligence of his Residents to the hospital Trustees. No way was he wasting another lunch hour on shit like that.

In the meantime, sensing the pursuit, David broke into a run. He made for the ambulance bay doors, which sprang open suddenly just as he reached them. To Owen's surprise, one of the living dead came lurching in the door.

"You see?" David yelled over his shoulder, "I wasn't making this up. There he is!"

Owen stared at the grotesque figure, whose flesh was peeling off him in sheets. His face was, in fact, completely gone. When the zombie spied David, he changed course and began staggering in his direction. "Give...me...my...face..." he groaned. David stumbled in terror and ran back in Owen's direction.

By now the commotion had drawn a crowd, with doctors and nurses watching in horror as the zombie headed their way. People began screaming and running. Owen knew he had to think fast, but at the moment the only thing on his mind was Cristina's moist panties. He shook his head to clear it and spied Miranda Bailey. If anyone could take care of this situation, she could.

"Um... Dr. Bailey... you think you could...?" Owen gestured in the direction of their uninvited and rather unseemly guest.

"Hmph," Miranda hmphed. "Aint no rotting corpse gonna mess up my hospital. Look at that, leaving dead skin all over my clean floor..." She pointed at their visitor, "Hey, you! Mr. Zombie! Get your raggedy ass over here!"

The zombie, no more able to refuse Dr. Bailey than anyone else at Seattle Grace, changed course yet again and headed for Miranda. He stopped obediently in front of her, as if waiting for instructions.

"Listen," she began, "I need you to go out into the woods and talk Derek Shepherd into coming back here. And I believe you might also run into Callie Torres - but you should leave her alone because she's sure to think you're an axe-wielding serial killer."

"Seriously?" the zombie asked.

"You see, I sent Torres after Shepherd and she's fallen off the grid..."

"I'm...kinda...busy...here," he replied, in the halting speech characteristic of those caught between the coffin and the grave. "Can't you send someone else?"

"Zombie!" she said brightly, but with attitude, "You've survived death and having your entire face removed. You can DO this!"

"I know... I... can... do ... this. I'm saying... I don't... want to."

Bailey just stared at him. The zombie fidgeted uncomfortably, an exasperated expression on his nonexistent face. "People... don't... really... say... no... to you... do they?" he asked.

"Not if they know what's good for them, they don't."

The zombie headed back out the door, to a collective sigh of relief from everyone present. They watched in amazement as he jumped in front of a bus, and was promptly smashed flat.

"Hey, are you sure that's not George?" asked Alex, who had been observing from the sidelines.

"Looks like we got rid of your problem for you, Mr. Young," Owen announced proudly.

"Well, one of them..." David muttered.

"What?" Owen asked, "You mean there's another one?"

"Oh, yeah," David pleaded. "Can you please take care of the blond chick now?"

Owen looked around. "What blond chick? You mean one of the three lesbians we tried to hook up with Dr. Torres?"

"Uh, I don't think she's a lesbian. She keeps following the zombie around, trying to have sex with him. Just last night, they were doing it on my kitchen table."

"Uh, dude?" Alex broke in, "I think that's my dead wife you're talking about... and that's a whole other episode."

**THE END**


	3. I Wish I Had An Evil Twin

Cristina walked into the hospital with her usual scowl. It was raining again and it felt like one of those days at Seattle Grace when things were going to get weird. She went on her way to find Owen and hopefully at least get some violently aggressive kissing, if not some full-on naked time in an on-call room. As she let her imagination wander, she turned a corner and ran right into Meredith.

"You're _here_ now? I thought I just talked to you…oh well, there's never enough time for me to whine about how much my life sucks. I mean, Derek called me a whore last year then he got drunk and batted my ring into the woods. And for some reason, we still can't kiss worth a damn…and I tried to kill myself, but even failed at that, oh and my split ends still suck! Doesn't my life suck?"

"Yes, yes, it does. And I'd tell you to shut up, but I'm afraid of getting impaled by another icicle."

"What happened to you? A few minutes ago you were all excited to hear about it. You wanted to have a joint session with me and Wyatt. You said she might have some good insights…"

"Oh god, you've gone crazy too. It was only a matter of time…I hate this place." Cristina shook her head and continued walking.

"Yang, don't forget to open the clinic today." Bailey said, walking quickly past.

"I'm in the—no! I hate the clinic." Cristina replied, slumping her shoulders. "I knew there had to be _one_ reason to keep Izzie around." Bailey turned with a glare.

"I would do it myself, but there's a dying child in the hospital…which means I need to work on my token lip-quiver, stuttering, and raising my hands to the heavens. And make up your mind, would you? You just volunteered to work the clinic for the next week. I'm holding you to it, now go!" Cristina furrowed her brow and kept walking. She felt Sloan walk up next to her and brush his pinky with hers.

"I only have pinky sex with Owen. Get out of here," she ordered, pulling her hand away.

"Yang, I know a few on-call rooms that are free if you want to take this pinky sex up a few notches. You just said you were interested…" Sloan said, smirking. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Was I not clear last time? I'm so not interested…I'm a single malt scotch and you are cheap vodka that tastes like nail polish remover. And by the way, Owen's much bigger than little Sloan. He would make little Sloan retract into his turtle shell…"

"Big Sloan, _biiiiig_ Sloan!" he corrected, all but dropping his pants to prove it. "You were up for it a few minutes ago…stop playing games with me."

"Cristina, I'm so happy you paged me." Derek said, running up to her, his perfectly teased hair flopping in the breeze. "Get out of here, Mark. We have got some serious work to do here." Mark turned and left with a sour expression on his face still muttering about how big his penis was.

"I didn't page you…have we got an interesting case?" Cristina asked, her eyes lighting up for the first time on this very bizarre morning.

"Oh yes, we do…Cristina, I have been dying to help you bring out your curls properly. Not to mention, I got this new conditioner yesterday that would work great if we wanted to venture into straight territory sometime…your hair looked fabulous at the wedding." Derek started fussing with her hair and Cristina smacked his hand away.

"Do _not_ touch my hair," she said simply. "And we're not friends. And I didn't page you. Why does everyone think I talked to them this morning? I just got here!"

"Cristina, I know you're sensitive about your hair…just come talk to me when you're ready. Anything's better than Meredith's split ends…it is the only fly in the ointment of our marital bliss."

"Martial bliss implies a wedding, right?"

"We're married…we signed a Post-It and sealed it with a kiss."

"Fish-lip kisses don't seal shit. Oh, and, Post-Its aren't legally binding."

"It's legally binding in our hearts!"

"You've been huffing too much hairspray." Cristina turned away and finally almost reached the ER when Owen turned the corner looking very frazzled and irate.

"You're killing me, Cristina. I've been in the army for five years, and then those nineteen episodes…really?"

"Do what?" she said, smiling and moving in to kiss him.

"Oh no you don't—no thanks. I don't want any more blue balls…."

"Who said anything about blue balls? I plan on finishing the job," she said, smirking and tugging him towards an on-call room.

"You just told me that you want to wait until marriage…which makes no sense since we already did it in an on-call room. Oh, and thanks for taping that, by the way, it's all over YouTube and my cousin called to ask what I did that made your toes curl…it was very awkward."

"Hey, I forgot that camera was running…and whatever, it was for posterity! Whoa, wait…I told you I want to wait until marriage? I would never say that…and this is the first time I've seen you today!"

"Oh my god…there is someone around here that looks just like you…Cristina, do you have a twin?"

"No…and I was born at Seattle Grace, so we know there is no way that something went wrong and somehow I was separated at birth from a twin I never knew I had. That kind of thing would never happen around here." Cristina and Owen looked at each other for a minute. "Oh god, I have a twin, don't I?" Cristina whipped out her phone.

"Mom? Mom! Was I a twin?"

"Oh Cristina, I was so drugged to high heaven. I barely knew I had you. So…when are you getting married?" Cristina hung up her phone in horror.

"Yang, I'm touched, but don't try to hug me again," Alex said, his face showing signs of disgust and confusion.

"Where did you see her go?" Owen yelled, some spit flying on Alex.

"_Dude_, again?" Alex winced, wiping his face.

"Sorry…it only happens when I yell at _you_ for some reason. Must be a traumbromantorship thing. Speaking of which, we've got a serial killer who is impaled on himself with a bomb in their chest and covered in cement," Owen said matter-of-factly. "Probably won't be long because he's acidotic and hypothermic..."

"Ugh, whatever! Where did I go?" Cristina yelled.

"That way," Alex pointed and shook his head as him and Owen ran off. "Too many crazy chicks in my life."

****

Cristina turned the corner and ran right into…herself…talking to Lexie about some sleepover party they were planning.

"And I'll bring muffin mix so we can braid each other's hair while it's baking!"

"Cristina, let's be best friends!" Lexie said, giggling. "Maybe if we're feeling really crazy, we can watch a PG-13 movie!"

"Oh, you are _bad_! And I keep telling you, call me Christine!"

"You!" Cristina yelled, pointing her finger. Lexie yelped and ran into a wall, falling down unconscious. "Who the hell are you?"

"Hi! I'm Christine!" her twin said excitedly, wrapping her arms around Cristina.

"Ow, ow, ow…stop touching me" Cristina yelled. Christine stepped back with the same excited, yet slightly crazed expression.

"I'm so glad we got to meet. Everyone here is so friendly. I just want to hug you and talk about feelings and cry and be best friends! And I have a surprise present for you!"

"Whatever, just please tell me you haven't done anything beyond reparation," Cristina begged, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Of course not…surprise!" Christine yelled, presenting the one and only, Denny Duquette.

"Are you kidding me? Did you not get the whole death thing? You can't be here, let alone have sex with people here."

"But you've agreed to be my earthly lover. Izzie's too busy with the ghost-kids to be bothered with me. Don't worry, we can play dirty scrabble as foreplay to our foreplay." He winked and Cristina choked back some McVomit.

"You're welcome" Christine whispered, winking. "You won't believe what his hands can do…but for some reason that's all he does. Oh well sometimes, he just uses a vibrator. Just go with it." Denny moved in closer, his arms reaching out to her. Cristina cringed, but looked around her for anything she might be able to use against him. In the corner of her eye, past a happily dancing Christine (whose moves resembled that of Elaine from Seinfeld), Cristina spotted that icicle Owen had removed from her chest back so many months ago, miraculously still not melted. She ran and grabbed it, turned back to Denny and stabbed him in the heart.

"Never-melting Ice! My only weakness!" he mumbled, crumbling to his feet and starting to melt. Cristina turned to Christine and stabbed her as well.

"B-b-but…I'm your twin!" Christina pleaded, crumpling to the floor.

"So?"


	4. Try to Remember

This chapter written by Angelamermaid

_These are the days of our lives of all my children. We have one bold and beautiful life to live._

"Owen! Come quick!" Meredith ran up to Dr Hunt and pulled him away from his computer.

"Why are you holding up that giant clipboard that covers your stomach?" he asked.

"Pay no attention to it," Meredith panted. "I'm here to tell you about Cristina! She got hit by a bus while crossing the street to work!"

Owen stood up manfully and brushed past Meredith, heading straight to the Pit.

"I'm _fine_," he heard Cristina protest behind curtains. "It's just a scratch."

He pulled the curtains around her bed apart, his forearm muscles rippling.

"_Cristina!_" he gasped, taking the raven-tressed beauty in his arms and kissing her. "Thank God you're all right!"

"Who the _hell_ are you?" she said, looking up at him quizzically. "And where's Burke?"

Everyone standing around her looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Except for Alex.

"Hey, she's got amnesia! Just like – just like –". His face crumpled with the freshly renewed anguish of losing his formerly golden-haired bride to the ravages of a cancerous mole.

Nurse Olivia leaned against him and whispered, "There, there. Let it out." She added, in a whisper, "meet me in on-call room #2 in five!"

"Get your hands off me," Cristina snarled, pushing Owen away. "Just who do you think you are, kissing a woman you don't know like that?"

"Oh you like it baby," he hissed. "And I'm Owen, your boyfriend. Burke is history."

"But we just got engaged," Cristina said in confusion. "Meredith sort of died but she didn't – oh hi, Meredith." Cristina frowned. "Why are you waddling like that and holding that bouquet of flowers in front of your stomach?"

"They're for you!" Meredith said, handing the bouquet to Cristina. "I stopped at the gift shop on the way back from Owen's office. But I didn't just die, that was months ago. Or maybe a year. We never can figure out what the actual date is."

"She's got amnesia," Owen said, through gritted teeth. "But we'll find a way to fix it, _I swear it!_ Someone page Shepherd!"

"That douchebag?" Cristina said. "He's not coming anywhere near me."

"That's my husband you're calling a douchebag!" Meredith protested, hiding behind Bailey.

"What?" Cristina frowned. "And why is Alex crying like a baby?"

"Oh Izzie's dead," Meredith said. "She had a cancerous mole on her back which made her see Denny and think she was having sex with him, but really she was masturbating. Rather than talk to a professional, she tried to diagnose herself but failed, so she got the interns to do it. By the time they figured it out, it was too late. So she married Alex and died."

"Whatever," Cristina shrugged. "Now where is Burke?"

"He dumped you at the altar," Callie sighed.

"He didn't deserve you!" Owen exclaimed, grasping Cristina by the shoulders. "I'm the one you're meant to be with! We fell in love at first sight and then I had to go back to Iraq where everyone but me died and I came back all sad and wounded and we made out under unusual circumstances and then we didn't make out for a while, we just looked longingly at each other, when I wasn't standing fully dressed and soaking wet in your shower, and I kept having panic attacks and then my ex-fiancee showed up and you got a dinosaur fired and then I got all _Apocalypse Now_ on you and choked you while having night terrors and I'm really sorry about that and then we finally had sex and broke up and I'm in therapy now and you told me that you loved me through gritted teeth but you said 'yes' and you took me back and Izzie died and you were sad but I cheered you up and we made out some more and my mom likes you and then we started having lots of sex even though we didn't sleep in the same bed and George almost died a lot but he's much better now and I met your mom and we're going to LA for Thanksgiving and this Italian chick showed up and had the hots for me but believe me, I only have the hots for you and then finally we were able to sleep in the same bed but then you broke my nose having a nightmare about the choking, which I am still very sorry about but we are most definitely in love with each other."

Cristina blinked. "I got Dr Campbell fired? Awesome!" She looked down at the flowers. "Hey, what's this?" She pulled out an icicle from in between the carnations. Everyone drew in a sharp breath.

"Ow!" Cristina said, dropping the icicle. It fell to the ground without shattering.

"Stand back!" Bailey ordered. "It's the Cassadine icicle! It never melts!"

"What?" Lexie asked.

"You know, the Cassadines!" Bailey rolled her eyes. "From _General Hospital_?"

"I can handle it!" Derek declared, stepping from behind the curtains. "Give it to me!"

"No Derek no!" Meredith cried, hiding behind Lexie.

Derek reached down and grabbed the icicle. It immediately sent jolts of electricity through his body, causing him to flail before fainting. As he fell down, he knocked the icicle into Cristina's abdomen.

"This feels familiar," she mused, falling backwards. Owen grabbed her before she could hit the bed. "Ow."

Owen stared seductively into Cristina's eyes.

"What was your name again?" she murmured.

"Owen," he said. "But you can call me McBadAss." He reached down and pulled out the icicle, then dropped it into a bedpan.

"You pulled out my icicle," she said in surprise. "Hey, déjà vu!"

"Does that mean you know who I am now?" Owen looked hopefully into her eyes, as everyone held their breath, and each others' hands. _Did she remember?_

"Yes!" she declared, throwing her arms around him. "I remember now! You're that guy with the scratchy beard that cries – manfully – a lot. I know who you are! _You are the love of my life!_"

The people standing around hugged each other and dabbed at their eyes. Owen held Cristina close in his huge and yummy arms, and kissed her, using lots of passionate tongue.

"But wait!" Derek said, struggling to his feet. "Why didn't the icicle hurt Owen when he pulled it out?"

"Because –" Owen stood tall and squared his shoulders. "Because – my full name is Owen Cassadine Hunt! I'm from the Scottish-American branch of the Cassadine family! Only a true Cassadine can touch the icicle without pain. Or fainting like a pussy."

"Does that mean you're rich?" Cristina asked.

"Yes," he confessed, caressing her face with his huge manly hands. "But I give away large amounts of money every year so that clinics can be built within weeks."

"Oh, like the Duquette family!" Meredith exclaimed, holding a large purse in front of her."Does that mean …?"

"Yes," Owen said, swallowing hard. "The Duquettes are another branch of the Cassadines. Through circumstances not easily explained without a flowchart, Denny was my cousin – and my half-brother!"

Everyone gasped.

"Everyone thinks I came back to Seattle Grace just because I was discharged," Owen said. "But the truth is, there's been a long-standing feud between the Duquettes and another branch of the Cassadines, one that operates out of trailer parks. I came here to see if Isobel Cassadine Stevens killed Denny."

Everyone gasped.

"She did, sort of," Cristina mused. "I mean, if she hadn't cut the wires and stolen the heart, he wouldn't have had a blood clot form on the suture…"

"Exactly," Owen said, stroking her ebony curls. "But she had a back-up plan in case that didn't work." He held up the bedpan. "How do you _think_ the Cassadine icicle ended up at Seattle Grace?"

"This doesn't make sense," Bailey said. "She loved Denny but killed him?"

"Multiple-personality disorder," Owen explained.

"And the cancerous mole?" Alex asked, wiping his eyes. "How did that happen?"

"She didn't believe in using sunscreen," Owen said sombrely.

Everyone paused to think about the importance of protecting against harmful UV rays. Their reverie was disrupted when an older man parted the curtains and stepped inside.

"Cristina!" Colin Marlowe exclaimed. "I heard you were in an accident? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving him away. "Don't get too close or my boyfriend will choke you."

Colin looked at Owen and his face went white. "Owen?" he whispered in shock.

Owen stared back. "Dad?"

_Be young. Be restless. Follow your guiding light wherever it may lead you, as the world turns._


End file.
